“And it is a very small cooky!” said his little cousin.
“Not big enough for me!” said the child whose nursery it was.
The other two children said nothing, but they looked at the cooky with big round eyes, and their mouths went up in the middle and down at the sides.
“Well,” said the Play Angel, “let us have the feast just the same. I think we can manage it.”
She broke the cooky into four pieces, and gave one piece to the littlest child.
“See,” she said. “This is a roast chicken. It is just as brown and crisp as it can be. There is cranberry sauce on one side, and on the other a little mountain of mashed potato. It must be a volcano, it smokes so. Do you see?”
“Yes,” said the littlest child, and his mouth went down in the middle and up at the corners.